Undefined Reversion
by Clez
Summary: Chapter 6 FINALLY here now. Sorry for delay guys! It's been over a year since the big boost, but will they be able to keep from falling to temptation... no matter what the odds? WIP
1. Chapter 1

NOTE: As I am not much of a car person, names and types of American cars would be appreciated for future reference. This is my first Gone In 60 Seconds fic, and I'm hoping it satisfies. Usual disclaimer stuff goes here, blah, blah blah. :)  
  
* * *  
  
* * *  
  
The night had descended on Long Beach, California at a reasonable hour, and the sleepy area was just now waking, stretching through the streets with a vibrant and swift urgency. People worked, and people played. Sporty, impressive cars of all shapes and sizes drove about, men and woman alike in the driving seat. The moon hung lazily in the clear sky amidst the starts, watching casually as the night unfolded, the hour pressing on quickly.  
  
In the bar close to the pier, things were just getting interesting. Alcohol flowed, money was spent and earned, and the constant haze and stench of cigarettes was hanging resiliently in the low-lit air. Music played at a considerably comfortable level, drowned out only by the frequent laughter of a rowdy group of people seated in a large booth in the corner. They had three pitchers of beer, and showed signs of turning the town upside down later if they consumed enough of it.  
  
The usual collection of middle-aged men desperate to fit in filled the bar stools, noticed and acknowledged only by the barman. They drank beer after beer, and watched everyone discreetly.  
  
There were a small number of women dotted around, the same old kind who only wanted to know you if you lived hard, drove fast, and had a wallet full of cash. They were on the hunt for every woman's typical ideal man... the desirable, mysterious, handsome and loaded young man who would keep them entertained until they found something newer, younger and richer.  
  
Two young men played pool in the corner, not saying much, their silence a signal to everyone else that they weren't here to socialise, cause trouble, or be on the receiving end of any. They just wanted to drink beer, and have fun, and stumble home at the end of it al. when they did speak, the conversation revolved around anything with four wheels and a powerful engine.  
  
The first was standing at the side of the table, his pool cue in one hand, and a half-empty beer in the other. He watched the table with curious eyes and shrugged his shoulders loosely under his hooded sweater. His slacks were black, and his worn sneakers had seen better days. His brown hair was gelled right back, styled so that it wouldn't get in his face. The denim jacket he often wore hung on a rack off to the side.  
  
The second young man was considering the table carefully with inquisitive blue eyes. His dark blonde hair was spiked, giving him a mischievous, youthful air. His knuckles were just visible below the wide cuffs of his black jacket, collar of a red shirt showing over the top. His baggy jeans efficiently covered most of his boots, the chain hanging from the belt loop disappearing into his side pocket. He wore two solid silver rings on the last two fingers of his left hand, his large heavy silver bracelet only showing when he twisted his wrist to grip the cue. He had shaved all but most of the sideburns of his facial hair, and no longer looked as daunting as he had not long ago.  
  
"Are you going to shoot before last orders?" Kip Raines murmured, his voice on the border of audible as the speaker churned out a steady rhythm.  
  
Tommy 'Tumbler' Tumble turned his gaze upon his long-time friend, and smiled his most charming smile. He bent over the table, lined up his shot, and potted the eight ball with irritating ease. He laughed softly to himself, seeing the flash of defeat in his best friend's eyes, before triumphantly saying, "Your round." He shook his empty beer bottle for emphasis.  
  
Kip rolled his eyes, leaned his cue against the wall, and grumbled, "Don't you wanna get outta here already?"  
  
Tumbler leaned against the table, raising a single eyebrow. "You're just trying to find a way to get outta buying me another beer."  
  
Kip dug around in his deep pocket for some change, and replied, "No. I can afford the beer."  
  
His friend grinned knowingly. Kip didn't have a lot of cash recently. He had been saving it all up for a car. Not just any car... no, it had to the right kind of car. He just wasn't sure what that was yet. It would come to him. He just needed to think about it and be patient.  
  
"All I'm worried about it how you're going to drive when you're drunk," Kip continued, throwing Tumbler a look.  
  
Tumbler let his head sink for a moment, before he sighed. He stood to his full height, replaced his cue and grabbed Kip's jacket, tossing it at him.  
  
The denim jacket hit Kip in the side of the head, clung to his shoulder for a moment, and then fell to the floor.  
  
Kip glanced curiously to Tumbler, blinking once in question.  
  
Tumbler motioned for the door, and said, "Let's go."  
  
"I didn't mean we had to leave now," Kip told him, not sure who he was trying to convince. He scooped up his jacket, and slipped it on.  
  
Tumbler smiled. "It's okay. I'm running outta cash anyway." He started for the door, Kip right behind him.  
  
One of the young women by the door laid a hand on Tumbler's arm as he was about to pass.  
  
"Fancy taking me for a drive?" she asked him in a voice that she probably thought passed for seductive, sweet and innocent. She wasn't even close. She was half-drunk, and looked more than a little stoned.  
  
Tumbler took hold of her hand, and dropped it again, saying, "Maybe some other time."  
  
The woman pouted, trying to look deeply offended, before throwing a glance to Kip.  
  
Kip stifled a laugh, and hurried out of the door after his friend.  
  
Tumbler took one look back at the bar, and started laughing, the affects of five or more beers starting to sink in. he closed his eyes, ran his hands over his spiky blonde hair, and then managed to stop laughing.  
  
Kip's hand jabbed towards him, palm up, and his eyes stared to Tumbler, who simply gaze back blankly.  
  
"What?"  
  
Kip sighed, and pushed his hand into Tumbler's jacket pocket, fingers moving around searchingly.  
  
"Man, what the hell are you doing? Mugging me or something?" Tumbler queried with half a chuckle.  
  
"No, I'm lookin' for your keys," Kip informed him simply, only slightly amused at his friend's sudden succumbing to inebriation.  
  
Tumbler's left hand casually shoved Kip back, and then disappeared into his pants' pocket. He pulled out the chain, showing Kip the set of keys hanging off the end.  
  
"Give 'em to me," Kip said dryly, suddenly quite tired, though he wasn't sure why. He reached out to take the keys.  
  
"Hey," Tumbler began, pulling them out of reach, "I can do it. Whadda you think I am? Stupid?"  
  
"That's debateable," Kip grumbled as he watched the other man fiddle with task of unhooking the keys.  
  
Impatient, Kip moved over, easily took the keys out of Tumbler's hand, and moved about removing them from the chain.  
  
"Hey," Tumbler complained, furrowing his brow, "I could've done it."  
  
"Yeah?" Kip said, removing the keys and leading the way to the car, letting the chain dangle around his friend's shin. "Probably would have fallen over before that." He smiled, hearing Tumbler moving behind him, even as they arrived at the red Nova.  
  
Kip moved to the driver's seat, Tumbler coming up beside him as he unlocked the door to the classic car.  
  
"What are you doing? This is my car," Tumbler told his friend, giving him a gentle shove. "I'm supposed to drive."  
  
"And you'd crash it too," Kip informed him simply, locking gazes with him, and raising his eyebrows. "Get in the passenger side."  
  
He didn't move.  
  
"Tumbler," Kip began, pointing to the right side of the vehicle, "get in the passenger side. You're not drivin', okay? I'm driving you home."  
  
"I can drive my own car... Kip," Tumbler stated, seeming to have momentary trouble recollecting his friend's name.  
  
It was Kip's turn to shove, gently, for fear of throwing the marginally shorter -yet stronger- man right off balance.  
  
"You couldn't walk twenty feet without a map," Kip retorted, giving him a warning stare, "and then you'd still get lost. Now, get in the passenger side already."  
  
Tumbler scoffed, and moved around the car, speaking as he went, his voice loud, "If you scratch my car, I'll kick your ass."  
  
Kip watched his friend practically fall in the car, rolled his eyes, and climbed behind the wheel with a discreet smile. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Shelby Mustang roared down the freeway, picking up speed gradually, gliding smoothly and with ease past slower vehicles, leaving their drivers looking on jealously as the GT 500 sped away. She was finally finished, a well-oiled machine, perfectly tuned and cleaned to a shine.  
  
The driver sat comfortably in the left hand side of the car, his hands rested casually on the steering wheel, watching the road unfold ahead of him as he steered his Mustang to his destination. He had had a lot of practise in this particular car, and he was pretty sure there was nothing he couldn't do in 'Eleanor'. The incident a little over a year ago had proven that. Of course, 'Eleanor' had looked a little worse for wear after that particular boost, but his younger brother had bought her for him, and now she was all his... perfectly legal. 'Eleanor' was finally his, and in perfect working order.  
  
Sighing a sigh of content, Randall 'Memphis' Raines turned off the freeway, and reduced speed, heading on his way to the garage to lend a hand to his old friend. He had promised to try and held restore an old Ford.  
  
Memphis had been helping out at Otto Halliwell's garage since the big boost last year, and felt better for helping out, after all the older man had done to help. He and his wife were good people, decent people working a solid honest life. Junie and Otto appreciated Memphis helping out, even though they had tried a couple of times to insist it wasn't necessary.  
  
As he pulled into the yard outside the large building, he smiled, looking out at the old cars in need of restoration, new parts, or just salvaging. Memphis wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all Otto, but he actually loved coming here to help out five days a week. Otto gave him some money for his services, and that was all Memphis really needed.  
  
That and 'Eleanor'.  
  
Memphis parked the Mustang carefully, pulled out the key, and climbed free of the car, running his hand down the smooth exterior as he closed the door, locking it after him. Last thing he wanted was for some amateur to try and boost her, or even just damage her.  
  
He walked the short distance to the wooden door, and pulled it open, stepping inside, and welcoming the large mastiff that greeted him with lolling tongue and wagging tail.  
  
Memphis laughed, and was too busy petting the dog to notice someone approach.  
  
"Morning," they said to him, causing him to start a little. He looked up to them, and smiled. It was Otto, a rag in his greasy hands, and tools hanging in his work belt. His overalls had seen better -if not cleaner- days, and his glasses hung on a chain around his neck. His receding hairline gave him an air of experience and wisdom, and the gentle eyes looked down welcomingly.  
  
"Hey, Otto," Memphis returned, standing from petting the dog, and patting it on the head a couple of times to send it away. It padded off to its grubby blankets, and locked its teeth around an old license plate.  
  
"You ready to start on that Ford?" Otto inquired, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to the classic vehicle, sitting patiently, and waiting for restoration. It looked like it had been through a bit of a battle, but seemed worth saving. It was doable.  
  
"Sure."  
  
Junie poked her head out of the office, smiling pleasantly, and holding out a mug. "Coffee, Memphis?"  
  
He grinned in response, and nodded. He watched the woman disappear, and heard her fish out the necessary items to make him his drink.  
  
"I'll just go change," Memphis told Otto, seeing his acknowledging nod, and paced off to don a pair of overalls. As he walked, he whistled a light tune to himself, listening to the sounds of tools in cars, and the revving of motors as other workers tested engines.  
  
It didn't take Memphis long to change, coming out from the small room with a pair of overalls, white T-shirt exposed, the top half of his coveralls hanging around his waist, the arms tied in a knot. It was warm day in Long Beach, and apparently Otto had realised, as he opened the large main doors to the garage.  
  
Memphis smiled, and jogged back over to help with the car.  
  
* * *  
  
Sara 'Sway' Wayland finally managed to drag herself out of bed at around nine o'clock, yawning exaggeratedly, and stretching refreshingly, her blonde locks of hair hanging in a mess around her head and face. She groaned lazily, and brushed them aside with a hand, shaking her head to clear her vision.  
  
Memphis was already gone, she surmised, glancing over at the empty half of the bed he always slept on. It was tidy and neat, and screamed Randall Raines in its organisation. There were no sounds in the rest of the apartment. He had gone to the garage.  
  
Sway stood from the mattress, glancing out of the window, with its partially opened blinds, and saw the rush and bustle of Long Beach as it started to wake. She admired a few vehicles as they passed, and crossed from the bedroom into the lounge-come-kitchen.  
  
Her feet carried her to the percolator at once, where Memphis had kindly and considerately decided to leave her some coffee. She smiled sleepily, rubbed her tired eyes, and poured herself a mug, adding some sugar.  
  
This was just what she needed, she realised as she walked across to the couch. A good cup of fresh coffee. She curled up on the couch, and turned on the TV, bringing up her sock-covered feet onto the soft cushions, and sighing.  
  
There wasn't a lot on the TV at this time of morning, she soon noticed, as she flicked through the channels, still waking. There were the usual daytime soaps, a few game shows, and an old movie. She hung about on the movie for a while, before realising it was of no interest to her. She turned off the television, activating the stereo instead, hearing the blaring of rock music soon begin.  
  
Another smile. Her favourite. Not really ideal early-morning listening, but it was doing a good job of waking her up. That, on top of the coffee, did the trick.  
  
After drinking her coffee, and managing to eat a slice of toast, she dressed herself in sleeveless short top, and tight jeans, slipping on her boots afterwards, tidying her hair presentably.  
  
Nodding her head along to the beat, she thought about what to do with herself. It was Saturday. She didn't have to work at the bar tonight, and she had long since quit her job at that car place downtown. If she wanted to work with cars, she knew exactly where to go.  
  
Well, it's not like there's much else to do, she mused, nabbing her leather jacket off of its hook on the wall, and slipping it on comfortably, shutting off the stereo, knowing the neighbours would be relieved she was going out.  
  
Snatching her keys out of the dish by the door, she left the apartment, and made her way immediately down to the parking lot where her Yamaha was parked safely.  
  
* * *  
  
Lyle Shepherd was a man who demanded the best, and always got what he wanted. He was a tough man, a daunting man, and when he was disappointed, a violent man. He had only been in Long Beach for three months, but was already growing quite attached to it. He had gathered quite a few connections in his time at Long Beach, but it still wasn't enough for him.  
  
His crew were scarce, few and far between. It wasn't what he wanted. He needed to build himself up here, let people know what he was all about. Lyle Shepherd wanted his reputation known.  
  
He sat behind his ratty desk, staring at the lone picture that sat framed on his desk, and the smile on the face of his late wife was almost enough to make him forget who he was. He was no longer the loving husband and devoted father he had once been. No. Now he was a changed man. Some would say for the better, and some would say for the worst.  
  
He stood from his desk, crossed the room to the door, and stared out over the balcony at the work going on below. Cars and motorbikes sat below, some old, some new, all valuable and desirable.  
  
There were Fords, Yamahas, a couple of Porsches, and even a few Mercedes, as well as a couple of old Volvos, and a Ferrari.  
  
Lyle Shepherd sighed, and groaned, rubbing his eyes. Why were his people having so much trouble with this? He had told them to collect these vehicles over a week ago, and they only had about thirteen at most. He needed a considerable amount more.  
  
For many years, since the death of his wife, the loss of his daughter, and the disbanding of his fortune and reputation, Lyle Shepherd had been dealing in whatever he could get his hands on. He had managed to amass quite a few respectable clients, but he was after the big buck. He wanted the big deals.  
  
And this was one of them.  
  
It was just taking too long. He had mentioned this to his boys the previous day, and they had gone out in search of information, names of people they could use to help them. By help, he meant do the work that his crew obviously couldn't do themselves, whether said people really wanted to help or not.  
  
Local police and detectives had already arrested two of his boys, and they were sniffing close. He couldn't afford to lose this deal. It was worth too much money.  
  
The opening of the door caught his eye, and he turned his head in the direction of two of his boys entering, conversing quietly, and holding a few items in their hands. From his position up on the balcony, Lyle Shepherd couldn't make out what they were.  
  
They moved up to him immediately, two men similar in skills, and both very capable. They had been the only successful workers in Lyle Shepherd's crew so far. One of them was taller than the other, a shock of bleached hair his most striking feature, on top of the almost ice blue eyes and wry smile. His name was Lennox.  
  
The second was slightly rounder than the first, but a big built man, strong and sly. His darker skin hid dark eyes, and was topped off with gelled black hair. He was somewhat an emotionless man, never quite comfortable with showing others how he felt about whatever was going on. He was known as Ox.  
  
That bothered Lyle Shepherd very little. He just wanted to know what they had managed to dig up.  
  
He led the way back into his office, and sat back down, the two men standing before the desk, and looking to him.  
  
"What have you got for me?" he asked of them in a smooth voice, his tone curious and insistent.  
  
Ox held out a thin file to Lyle Shepherd, one he took instantly and started to peruse.  
  
He thumbed through the papers, and unclipped the Polaroids attached to the top of the pages. He glanced through them with mild interest.  
  
"We managed to get the names of some car thieves... good ones too," Lennox told him, arms crossed over his broad chest, the leather jacket done up tightly.  
  
Ox took up his cue to speak almost immediately, and continued, "What we managed to find out is that there are, from what we can gather, two crews, not just one. A little over a year ago, they joined together, and pulled off a fifty car boost in one night."  
  
Lyle Shepherd's eyes rose instantly, and he considered Ox seriously, as if waiting for the joke to reach a pinnacle. Ox was deadly sincere. The look in his dark eyes confirmed it. Ox was not a joker, as opposed to Lennox.  
  
"And they didn't get caught?" Lyle Shepherd inquired, intrigued now, as he inspected the photos again, taking in the faces of the people in the images.  
  
"Nope," Lennox replied simply. "They came close on the last car, a Shelby GT 500."  
  
"We did manage to find out that the cars never made it out of Long Beach though," Ox interjected. "Someone tipped off the cops, and they were impounded, and then returned to their owners."  
  
Lyle Shepherd leaned back in the leather chair pensively; the photos set out in a line before him. "And this is all of them?"  
  
"From what we could tell," Ox confirmed, nodding once, and moving forward. "We couldn't manage to find two of them, a man and a woman. The man is the big one, the brains you could say. He pulled off the last boost, organised it all, and everything. But we couldn't find him. Known as Memphis Raines."  
  
"A woman?" Lyle Shepherd was confused. He rarely heard of female car- thieves. It was interesting to him.  
  
"Yeah," Lennox said to him, "known as Sway. She's pretty good."  
  
Lyle Shepherd nodded, and pointed to the photos. "So who do we have here?"  
  
"We've got Otto Halliwell and Atley Jackson," Ox informed him, pointing to the first photo, showing two men in conversation outside of what seemed to be a garage of some sort. "Halliwell owns his own chop shop, and Jackson was the intermediary for the last boost between the crew and the dealer. These guys are pros, but from what I hear, they don't actually do the stealing themselves."  
  
Lyle Shepherd nodded, and indicated for Ox to move on to the next photo. It showed a large black man climbing out of what appeared to be a student driver car.  
  
"This here is Donny Astricky," Ox continued matter-of-factly. "Teaches new drivers over at the DMV. Old friends with Halliwell and Jackson. Old school, and a expert with the tricky work."  
  
Ox moved on to the third picture, a tall imposing man with a grave look on his face, narrowed eyes, and hard lines. His short, close-cut hair gave him a military air.  
  
"This guy is known as 'The Sphinx'. Doesn't speak a word, but quite a handful. Not the most gentle creature, if you understand what I'm saying, but damn good at what he does."  
  
The fourth photo was of three young men. The first was clearly younger, with a full head of tousled blonde hair, and an innocent expression. He carried a backpack over one shoulder, and wore a jacket that seemed a size too big. The second looked as though he had lived on the streets for a number of years, a young man with longer black hair and a streetwise smile. His leather jacket and dark garments suggested he knew how to dress to ward others away. The third and final young man was black, with sunglasses completely covering his eyes. He wore baggy brand name clothing, and had a bandana tied around his head. He appeared carefree, and was grinning like an idiot.  
  
"These three are part of the other crew, the younger crew, led by the brother of the head honcho. This here is Toby, a computer genius. He got shot on the last boost when he got in over his head. Not too good with the stealing, but a whiz with the complicated computer stuff. Here we have a guy called Freb, known to tag along with a boost, but never really heard of him actually doing one solo. Finally, there's the little one, 'Mirror Man', who has actually stolen a car himself. Known as somewhat of a technical know-it-all, he can break into quite a few locked garages with the right equipment."  
  
Lyle Shepherd was growing interested, and he rested his elbows on the armrests of his expensive chair, pointing to the last photo. Two young men were standing outside what seemed to be a bar at night. They stood beside a classic red and black car, and seemed to be talking. The first was a tough- looking kid, shorter than the other, if only slightly, with spiky blonde hair and large sideburns. He was fiddling with a set of keys, and appeared as though he had consumed a certain amount of alcohol at the time. The second was trying to take the keys off of the first, clean-shaven face and gelled hair making him presentable yet carrying an air of streetwise knowledge. His casual appearance contrasted somewhat to the jacket and shirt of his companion.  
  
"And who are these two?" Lyle Shepherd inquired curiously, jabbing at the photo.  
  
"Ah." Ox almost showed a smile. "Now here are two kids who know how to boost cars, if you know what I'm saying." Ox leaned forward on the table on his knuckles, and spoke confidently, "The one playing with the keys is known as Tumbler, a rough kid who is fond of his cars. Quite violent if provoked, but can pretty much drive anything with an engine." Ox paused, seeing the nod from his employer. Lyle Shepherd was impressed. "And the other kid is the leader of the younger crew. His name is Kip Raines. Very good with a boost, but somewhat spontaneous."  
  
Ox stood to his full height, and looked to Lennox. "These younger ones will take risks to pull off a boost, but the older crew are sly, tricky. Working together, they could bring in your deal and close it before the cops even knew what was going on."  
  
Lyle Shepherd smiled, nodding to himself. "This is good... nice work."  
  
Ox and Lennox simply nodded.  
  
"Bring me these two," Lyle Shepherd ordered with a wry smile, seeing Ox and Lennox acknowledge, before leaving. As they closed the door, he leaned back in his chair. "Let's see if we can wet their appetites." 


	3. Chapter 3

Memphis heard the engine of the motorcycle rumble from outside the shop, and allowed himself a smile. He wondered how long it would take for her to get here. With very little to keep her entertained on a Saturday, she usually drove down to Otto's to see what was happening, and if she could lend a hand herself.  
  
He saw her walk through the door, slipping off her leather jacket, and removing her helmet, placing them carefully and surprisingly neatly on a workbench near the door, heading straight over to the old Ford they were working on.  
  
She planted a kiss on him, and smiled. "What you working on?"  
  
Memphis sighed, and rubbed his filthy hands on a rag, replying, "This old Ford. Remember I told you about it? It's quite a job though. Might take us a while."  
  
Sway nodded, her blonde hair moving about her face and resting on her shoulders beautifully in controlled locks. Her blue eyes considered him. She was bored.  
  
"You can give us a hand if you want," called Otto from underneath the hood, the sounds of tools clanking from within. There was a small curse, and the older man poked his head up from his work, shaking his hand.  
  
Sway smiled, and glanced between the two. "Sure. I know when I'm needed." She giggled and went to grab herself some overalls, leaving Memphis to look on after her.  
  
* * *  
  
Kip knocked on the door three times and waited, leaning against the wall near the doorframe itself. He knocked again, louder this time, and rolled his eyes. Apparently, the beer had taken more of an affect than Kip had thought, and his friend probably wasn't even out of bed yet.  
  
Kip sighed, and shoved the toe of his boot into the bottom of the door three times in succession, the loud knocking carrying down the quiet corridor. The cheap apartment building was dead, and no one was around, apart from the crazy woman who lived in the place down the hall. She always complained about the noise, and gave them hassle, shouting that she was going to call the police if they didn't keep it down.  
  
There was the sound of something being knocked over from inside, followed by an abrupt quiet curse, before the familiar rattle of a chain being thrown aside was heard. Another lock was undone, and then the door opened, displaying a rather tousled looking young man.  
  
Kip smiled. "Hung-over?"  
  
Tumbler groaned, and pulled a somewhat comical expression, rubbing a hand over his hair and face. He was dressed in long shorts and sleeveless white vest, his hair a mess of blonde spikes atop his head. His blue eyes stared at Kip, and he no doubt had a headache.  
  
Kip laughed, and Tumbler let him in. The latter walked away from the door, and climbed over the mess in his small apartment, collapsing on the couch where he had obviously fallen asleep the previous night... or rather, early morning. Kip had managed to drag Tumbler in at about three o'clock. Their drive home had taken an unexpected detour.  
  
Kip stood amidst the dishevelled belongings, amongst which were clothes, a small number of empty bottles, a few car magazines and an old acoustic guitar that probably hadn't been played in a while.  
  
Tumbler sat up on the couch, and stared up at Kip, eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here? It's early." He rubbed his eyes, and scratched the back of his head subconsciously, looking around at the mess; clearly amazed he had managed to get through it all when he'd got home.  
  
Kip laughed once again, and pointed at the clock on the wall, which he soon realised had stopped, instead pocketing his hands, and saying, "Early? It's gone eleven." He was still smiling when Tumbler threw him a look of amazement. He obviously hadn't known it was that late. "We're gonna go check out some cars today, remember?"  
  
Tumbler nodded, glancing about as if searching for something, and mumbled, "Yeah, yeah, I remember." He frowned. "Just give me a few minutes, and I'll be ready."  
  
"You sure you can drive today?" Kip teased, earning himself a glare.  
  
Tumbler moved off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, leaving Kip to grin about his friend's state and the mess in the apartment. He should have expected this.  
  
Kip sat at one of the kitchen stools, and thumbed casually through a car magazine, admiring a few of the pictures there, and quickly moving on when he saw the prices attached. He had to remember to be reasonable about his purchase, if he ever found a car.  
  
After about ten minutes, Tumbler emerged from the bathroom, somewhat tidier than before, and shuffled into the bedroom to change. Kip heard him open the closet, and pull something out.  
  
His attention was soon back on the magazine, as he waited patiently.  
  
Another five minutes passed, and Tumbler came out of the bedroom, fully dressed. He had slipped on a short-sleeved bowling shirt with the nickname 'Tumbler' stitched onto it in red, with a fresh sleeveless vest underneath. His baggy jeans had been replaced, and the trademark chain dangled halfway out of the pocket, his car keys reattached to the end after their night out. His hair had been redone, and stuck up in styled spikes of blonde, growing lighter towards the tips.  
  
The light reflected through the window off of his two silver rings and chunky bracelet as he turned to Kip.  
  
Kip hopped off the stool, and shut the magazine, having not found anything in his price range. They started for the door, before Kip stifled a laugh. "Um... Tumbler?"  
  
His friend turned back to him, and waited.  
  
"Might need some shoes, pal." Kip pointed.  
  
Tumbler looked down, donned a confused expression that seemed to show he had thought he'd already had footwear on, and quickly grabbed his thick boots off the floor, shoving them on and tying them securely.  
  
Kip was still smiling as they went out the door, hearing Tumbler slam it behind him. There came the familiar whining voice from down the hallway, shortly before a head poked out of the door from the other end. They were walking away as she shouted, "Keep the noise down! What have I told you about the noise!"  
  
Tumbler rolled his eyes with a sigh, and called back, "Alright, Miss Fletcher, whatever you say."  
  
They had started descending the stairs as the woman shouted something in response, but they were too far away to hear... or care. It was a marvel the woman hadn't heard Kip bringing Tumbler up in the morning. The noise his friend was making had been somewhat amazing for someone who had barely been able to climb the stairs without falling backwards every few seconds.  
  
They emerged into the sun of the Long Beach day, and Tumbler fished his keys out of his pocket, saying as he did so, "You gotta get me some coffee or something."  
  
"You've got coffee inside!" Kip told him as he unlocked the '69 Nova.  
  
"Not anymore I don't," Tumbler replied, climbing in, pulling down his shade to keep the sun out of his eyes as he located the ignition. "Haven't had coffee for a week. Mirror Man used it all."  
  
Kip sighed loudly, and got in the car, closing the door after him, and hearing the engine roar into life. "Fine. We get some coffee, and then we look for my new car."  
  
"If you can ever decide what kind of car you want," Tumbler commented, pulling out of the parking lot, and onto the road, his eyes looking out for other cars and pedestrians as he did so. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other rested on the rolled down window edge as they moved.  
  
Kip slouched back in the seat and shrugged. "It takes time. I'll figure it out, just you wait."  
  
"You can pick a car for your brother," Tumbler began, furrowing his brow as they stopped at a red light, "but you can't decide what you want for yourself."  
  
Kip let the conversation drop for the time being, and directed Tumbler to a place where they could get some breakfast.  
  
* * *  
  
The Ford had decided to start behaving at around midday, when Memphis was on the verge of smacking it with a spanner. The engine had spluttered into life after Sway's third attempt, and cheers had sounded through the shop. It was far from complete, but at least the girl started now.  
  
"Whadda you say we go out for drinks tonight?" Sway offered Memphis, standing rather seductively by the hood of the vehicle, holding a screwdriver in her hand, and turning it end over end repeatedly.  
  
Memphis turned to her, and smiled. "What brought this on?"  
  
"I dunno," she replied, shrugging loosely beneath her unzipped overalls, revealing a grubby T-shirt she had found in the back room. "I guess the success here has fuelled it my need to celebrate... with alcohol."  
  
Memphis chuckled to himself, and nodded. "Okay, sure. Drinks tonight."  
  
"Great," Sway muttered happily, and ambled away to talk with Junie, who was watching from the office with mild interest. The two soon got to conversing, and it wasn't long before the sounds of their laughter were heard. They got along as if they had known each other their whole lives.  
  
Memphis got back to work under the hood, hearing Otto speak to him from around the car somewhere. He was out of sight, but in audible range, as he said, "So, how are things with your brother? I haven't seen him around for a couple of weeks."  
  
"Wouldn't really know," Memphis replied casually, frowning to himself. "I haven't spoken to him myself in a week. Last I heard, he was looking for a car."  
  
"As in 'to buy', right?" Otto queried, poking his head under to regard his old friend seriously. The look in his eyes was unmistakable as concern.  
  
Memphis nodded. "That's what he said to me. Told me Tumbler was gonna give him a hand."  
  
"Why wouldn't he ask you for help?" Otto asked, taking a rag out of his pocket, and wiping it over the car's exterior slowly.  
  
Memphis came out from under the raised hood, and sighed, arms rested on the front of the car, as his eyes found Otto. "I'm not sure. Maybe he's getting more independent. I don't know. I just hope he and Tumbler keep outta trouble... and by getting a car, Kip means with money and keys."  
  
Otto nodded wordlessly in agreement, and shuffled off to finish up some neglected paperwork.  
  
Memphis watched him go, furrowing his brow at the possibility of his brother getting himself back into trouble, and ducked back under the hood of the Ford to work. 


	4. Chapter 4

Tumbler and Kip had taken to walking at around one-thirty, the heat of the California sun too much to handle in the car. They had parked it up in a secure place, and Tumbler had pocketed his keys again, feeling better for eating and getting some coffee, kindly funded by his friend.  
  
As they walked, their eyes searched for advertisements of potential cars for Kip, and as they passed each dealership, they casually glanced about. There wasn't much on offer.  
  
When it hit two o'clock, the two walked by the pier, grateful for the breeze that was on offer there, and watched the cars go by every so often. People passed in couples and groups, throwing the two odd looks, as though they expected to be jumped any minute.  
  
Tumbler looked out at the water, rested forward on a railing with his arms crossed, and listened to the pesky gulls as they passed overhead. Kip stood beside him, hands shoved pensively in his pockets, eyes glancing about as if the perfect purchase would pass him by any moment.  
  
Needless to say, he would be disappointed.  
  
"You planning to do this all day?" Tumbler asked of him, glancing back through narrowed eyes as the sun shone down on them warmly.  
  
The breeze tugging at the hood of his sweater, Kip shrugged. "I guess not. I can't seem to find anything anyway."  
  
"What about that Cadillac we found near Starbucks? That wasn't too expensive," Tumbler offered, finding his gaze wandering the waves searchingly.  
  
Kip shrugged once again, lazily, tired and bored, and said, "Yeah, but I'm not sure I want a Cadillac, you know?"  
  
"Oh, man, you're not sure about anything," Tumbler complained impatiently, hearing the screeching of a car from not too far away. He ignored it. Some people in Long Beach drove like maniacs... himself included at times.  
  
"I know I want a car," Kip retorted confidently, "I just don't know what kind."  
  
"Or what colour, year, size... any of that," Tumbler told him simply, without looking back at his friend.  
  
Tumbler heard a car pull up behind them, and only half-turned when someone grabbed Kip around the scruff of his sweater. Tumbler went to help, met by a punch in the stomach that knocked the wind out of him. He and Kip were thrown forcefully inside a van, and he heard the door slam, and then looked up, finding a gun pointing at them. Tumbler immediately raised his hands, glancing to Kip in alarm. What the hell was going on?  
  
"You Kip Raines?" one man asked, a large dark-skinned man with shadowy eyes and black hair. He was the one holding the gun. The man beside him had obviously bleached hair, and was staring intently, sitting on a low seat, his arms rested forward on his knees. There were two men in the front of the van, but it was hard to pick them out.  
  
"Yeah," Kip replied with a quick nod. "What's this about? We didn't do anything." He looked to Tumbler, who kept quiet.  
  
The second man glanced at Tumbler, and smiled a wry smile at the corner of his mouth. "You'll find out."  
  
Their journey took no more than ten minutes, and before long, they found themselves being pushed out of the van outside of a large warehouse, people milling about here and there, watching them as they were directed to the front door. They stepped inside, the larger of the two men still pointing a gun on them.  
  
Tumbler looked to Kip, and saw that his friend had already noticed the impressive -if somewhat small- collection of expensive cars dotted around, spaced out here and there by the odd motorbike.  
  
They were led towards a metal staircase that wound up to a second floor room with the kind of glass that let you look out from the inside, but was impenetrable to the naked eye from the exterior. The kind of glass you see in detective movies. Tumbler walked behind Kip, and in front of the light-haired man who had hit him back at the pier. The guy had one hell of a right hook.  
  
When at the top of the staircase, the larger man opened the door, and indicated that Kip and Tumbler go inside, which they did obediently, neither too keen on the idea of getting shot. That hadn't worked out too well for Toby, even if he was fine now. It wasn't appealing.  
  
Once inside, the room was revealed as somewhat spartan, furnished only with a desk, three chairs and a coat rack, covered with an expensive cloth coat and a scarf. The scarf was collecting dust, but the coat was fresh and clean, and looked like the kind that cost an arm and a leg to get dry-cleaned.  
  
A middle-aged man sat behind the wooden desk in a leather chair that squeaked slightly when he rocked in it. His hair was receding, and flecked with grey. His eyes were a dark menacing green, and bore through the two younger men almost instantaneously. He leaned forward on the desk, his elbows rested on the wood, and he smiled a cunning smile. He was dressed entirely in black.  
  
"Kip Raines and Tumbler, I presume," the man said, and his voice carried a hint of sarcasm and just a touch of menace. He glanced between the two, and raised his eyebrows.  
  
Kip nodded.  
  
The man smiled, and stood from the desk, pacing around it, and taking to glancing out of the window down at the warehouse below. "My name is Lyle Shepherd."  
  
Tumbler held back the urge to speak, knowing he could be less than subtle with his insults, and that would probably earn him another punch or even a bullet, neither of which he really wanted right now. He kept his mouth shut, and simply watched and listened.  
  
"I've heard of you, in case you hadn't guessed," the man said with a slight laugh that carried across the room. "I've heard about what you can do."  
  
"If you're referring to boosting cars," Kip began cautiously, "then I think you mean 'used to do'. We don't do that anymore."  
  
He turned to them, hands in his pockets, and cocked his head ever so slightly, narrowing his eyes. "Is that right?"  
  
Tumbler didn't even have time to react when the strong hand latched tightly around his neck and threw him against the wall, locking around his throat immediately after, the other hand of the light-haired man gripping the front of his shirt, pinning him.  
  
Kip went to help his friend, but stopped immediately when the gun was pointed at him. The man identified as Lyle Shepherd stared expectantly at him, and waited.  
  
Tumbler choked slightly, and gritted his teeth, trying to pry the strong hand off of his neck without success. He tried kicking out, striking the man twice, finding nothing happened. The man didn't budge, simply held him tightly, seemingly entertained.  
  
"Let him go," Kip said calmly, his voice shaking nevertheless, looking pleadingly to Shepherd. He shifted nervously on his feet, and glanced back over at Tumbler, who closed his eyes tight, and continued trying to pull the man off of him.  
  
Shepherd didn't speak, just stood silently, watching.  
  
"Please," Kip attempted, taking a step towards Shepherd, "we don't steal cars anymore. We can't help you, whatever it is you want, you're wrong. We don't boost now."  
  
"You're living honest," Shepherd said blandly, glancing to the floor, an expression of boredom on his face. "Is that right?"  
  
"That's right," Kip confirmed, even as Tumbler choked again. "Come on, let him go."  
  
There was a long silence, where the only noise was that of the cars outside and the sounds of Tumbler struggling to get free and breathe.  
  
Kip stared pleadingly at Shepherd, and Shepherd stared right back at Kip.  
  
"You're not living honest," Shepherd said to him, "not anymore."  
  
"W... what?" Kip mumbled, not quite sure what he should say, if anything. He didn't really understand. He looked to his friend momentarily, and then back to Shepherd.  
  
"You work for me now," Shepherd continued, "and you do what I say, when I say."  
  
Kip shook his head. He had tried so hard to get out of the life he had foolishly chosen some years back, and didn't want to revert to it again. He didn't want that for him and his friends. They were living honestly, earning a living -if somewhat sparingly- and getting on fine. Until now, it seemed.  
  
"If you don't work for me," Shepherd began, moving across the room to stare out of the other window casually, standing right next to the man who was choking Tumbler, giving them a nonchalant glance, "then he dies."  
  
Tumbler tried to protest, but couldn't form the words, fighting for oxygen, and failing.  
  
Kip was falling into panic now, and trying his best to hide it. "Don't make me do this."  
  
"What's it going to be, Mr. Raines?" Shepherd queried, turning to regard him, looking to the two men at the side of the wall. "Your 'honest' life... or his survival?" He indicated Tumbler with a nod of the head, and raised his eyebrows. "Your choice."  
  
Another prolonged silence, where Kip thought frantically over his options, his mind refusing to take in what was happening.  
  
"You can live with boosting cars, Mr. Raines," Shepherd pushed, voice lower, eyes staring at Tumbler now, watching the younger man struggle to get free, "but can you live with his death on your conscience?"  
  
Kip shook his head vehemently, and then nodded twice. "Okay, okay... alright, I'll do whatever you want. Just let him go, okay?"  
  
Shepherd smiled triumphantly, and patted the light-haired man on the shoulder once. He instantly released Tumbler from the choking grip, and let the younger man collapse against the wall, gasping for air, before he slowly sank to the floor, coughing. Kip stayed where he was, not sure what moving would provoke from the gun-wielding man behind him.  
  
"Now," Shepherd eased, "listen up. Here's what I want from you." 


	5. Chapter 5

The usual sounds of the garage carried through into the office, through its open door and thin windows, and right to Otto Halliwell and his wife. The dog lay snoring on its side under a bench, and one of its four legs kicked every now and again in the frantic chase of a dream.  
  
Otto sat at the workbench, glasses perched on his nose as he skimmed some recent paperwork, the radio playing in the background, but inaudible over the clanking of tools, the conversing and the revving of engines.  
  
With a groan, Otto pulled his glasses off his face and let them hang around his neck as he rubbed his tired eyes. He sighed, seeing the inquisitive look of his wife. Otto smiled. Junie smiled back.  
  
It was at that moment that Memphis appeared in the doorway, looking rather frustrated, maybe even a little concerned... perhaps angry.  
  
"What's wrong?" Junie asked, and the sound of her concerned voice awoke the slumbering dog. It gazed about lazily and yawned.  
  
Memphis looked down at Otto. "Hank just arrived. He said he saw Kip and Tumbler downtown," he revealed. There was an unmistakable look in his eyes.  
  
"Are they okay?" Otto found himself asking, turning on his stool to face his friend.  
  
Memphis shrugged. "Apparently, they were admiring a Lexus."  
  
Otto glanced briefly to Junie, stood, and led the way out of the office, leaving his wife and dog behind. Memphis followed.  
  
"Do you think they were... up to something?"  
  
Memphis let out a long exaggerated breath, and shook his head. Sway came up beside him as he replied, "It's hard to tell. Kip's been clean for over a year, but Hank said they looked a little... suspicious." His eyes met Sway's, and the woman's brow knitted.  
  
"Well there's no way to tell what they're really doing," Sway stated, using a stray rag to wipe her grubby hands.  
  
Memphis raised his eyebrows. "I can think of one."  
  
Otto nodded, and watched Memphis and Sway move off to change.  
  
* * *  
  
Tumbler watched Kip with a furrowed brow and a considerable frown. He didn't want this. It was wrong... Kip had tried so hard, as had he. The temptations had been unbearable at times, but he had beaten them... they both had.  
  
Kip stood next to a silver Lexus, admiring its sleek, beautiful form and finish, touching it lightly with one hand. His eyes floated back to his friend.  
  
Tumbler looked away, and shook his head slowly. He felt a little guilty, letting himself be used against Kip like he had. But he knew how Kip thought of him as family... close family. He would never let anything hurt Tumbler, and vice versa. It had been that way for years.  
  
Tumbler heard the rumble of a familiar car, and even as Kip managed to pop the door on the Lexus, his blue eyes caught sight of a Shelby Mustang approaching at a considerable speed.  
  
"Um... Kip?"  
  
Without looking back, removing his tool from the car door, Kip asked, "What is it? Is the owner comin' back?"  
  
Tumbler shook his head, just as the Mustang pulled up on the opposite side of the street. There was an unmistakable blonde in the passenger seat, and an angry-looking man behind the wheel.  
  
"No... but that might be better," Tumbler managed to stammer shortly before the door of the silver Mustang opened. The man climbed out at once, and started across the street.  
  
"Kip!"  
  
Tumbler swallow, throat suddenly dry, and saw his friend whirl in panic as recognition set in regarding the owner of the voice.  
  
"Memphis..." he muttered, seemingly in disbelief, even as his brother stalked swiftly up to him, and shoved the door of the Lexus closed right behind Kip.  
  
Kip started slightly, and opened his mouth to explain. Memphis held up a hand.  
  
Tumbler felt the desperate urge to turn and walk away, seek sanctuary, but Sway's glare kept him frozen in place. He avoided her angry gaze, and his eyes found an interesting non-existent point on the floor.  
  
"Don't say a word, Kip," Memphis growled, and without looking from his brother, addressed Tumbler; "Where's your car?"  
  
Tumbler fumbled for a moment, digging his keys out of his pocket. "Right around the corner," he mumbled in response.  
  
"Sway. Go with Tumbler," Memphis said stiffly, "drive him back to Otto's."  
  
Sway nodded, and moved to Tumbler, who unclipped his keys and handed them to her shamefully. He was more embarrassed that he could remember being in a long time. The look Sway gave him didn't help any either. She took the keys, and walked beside Tumbler, keeping an eye on him.  
  
Just as they were about to round the corner, Tumbler heard Memphis say, "Kip, get in the damn car."  
  
* * *  
  
The drive back to the shop didn't take long, and when Memphis pulled 'Eleanor' up outside, the red and black '67 Nova was already there, parked and empty. Sway and Tumbler had beaten them here... quite surprising at the speed Memphis had driven.  
  
Memphis climbed out; waiting until he saw Kip get out as well, and then shut the car door. His brother did the same. Memphis led the way into the garage, his anger swelling more and more by the minute. This was more than a problem. This was unbelievable... he had thought Kip was over this, Tumbler too. Apparently not.  
  
Pushing his way through the door, Kip right behind him, Memphis caught sight of Otto, who nodded to him. Junie was hanging back in the office doorway. The shop was quiet.  
  
"I had a feeling you'd head back here," Otto explained, his voice low, dog at his side, "I sent the others home for the rest of the day."  
  
Memphis nodded, and let his eyes search for Sway, who he found leaning against the wall across the room, near to a desk, her arms crossed over her chest, face pensive. Tumbler sat with a frown in a wheelie chair, which he shoved lightly back and forth with one foot. The chair spun a few centimetres and stopped, before he gave the ground another gentle nudge, sending him spinning ever so slightly the other way. His arms were on the rests at the side of the chair, and his eyes never left the floor.  
  
The air was silent for a while, the tension high. Everyone just sat and looked at everyone else, save for the two culprits who had just been caught red-handed, so to speak. The only sound was that of the dog as he panted in the warm afternoon, eyes droopy and lazy.  
  
Memphis gave a momentary glare to Tumbler, and then turned on Kip, who looked to be expecting whatever his brother had in store. He looked ashamed, and for a very good reason.  
  
"What the hell do you think you were doing?" Memphis blurted finally, no longer able to keep it inside, feeling his anger flow free throughout his body. His eyes found Kip's and locked them there.  
  
Kip said nothing. Memphis glanced back at Tumbler, who avoided his gaze, and also kept silent.  
  
Memphis paced one intimidating step closer to his brother, and said in a low voice, "I asked you a question."  
  
"We..." Kip began quietly, somewhat feebly, "we were..." he sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets, "we were stealing a car."  
  
At the sound of movement from behind him, Memphis turned his head to see Tumbler merely leaning forward in the chair, a hand rubbing through his hair.  
  
It was the sentence Memphis had feared. He had known it was coming, but something deep inside of him had told him foolishly that maybe there was another explanation.  
  
For a few moments, Memphis wasn't sure what to say or do, before he managed to ask, "What the hell for? I thought you were done with that... didn't you learn your lesson the last time!"  
  
Kip squirmed under his brother's icy glare, and shook his head, stammering for a second before offering, "You don't understand."  
  
"You're damn right I don't," Memphis agreed whole-heartedly, looking to Sway, who shrugged. Tumbler had taken to standing from the chair, hands in his pockets also, eyes locked on the classic Ford, obviously trying to find something else other than the debate to concentrate on.  
  
Memphis continued, "Here I was thinking you had finally learned your lesson, gotten over all of this, and moved on. You told me you were going to buy a car, not boost one. I mean... a Lexus? In broad daylight!"  
  
"No," Kip mumbled, shaking his head, "it's not like that. I didn't have any other choice..."  
  
Memphis felt his brow furrow, and his eyes narrowed in confusion and consideration briefly, before he demanded, "What are you talking about? You could have chosen not to steal the damn Lexus. You're lucky I got there before you did something stupid and got yourself in more trouble than you'd ever know what to do with."  
  
Kip took his hands out of his pockets, and gestured vaguely to the door as he said, "No, I mean, I didn't want to steal the Lexus-"  
  
"What? Someone told you to steal the car?" Memphis exclaimed, waving his arms, leaning forward to say it right in Kip's face.  
  
Kip wasn't intimidated anymore. Memphis waited for the excuse.  
  
"I had to, Memphis," Kip told him firmly; words clear and crisp, eyes locked with his. "I didn't have any other choice."  
  
Sway moved over a few feet, standing behind Memphis, and asked, "Kip, what are you talking about? What do you mean you 'had to'?"  
  
Kip hesitated, and Memphis saw him glance to Tumbler, who was trying his hardest not to get involved.  
  
If I'm not going to get anything out of him, Memphis thought, regarding his brother momentarily, before stalking over to the Ford, then maybe I can find out what's going on from Tumbler.  
  
He arrived at Tumbler's side, and visibly saw the younger man shrink away slightly, as if he had thought Memphis was going to strike out at him... and it wasn't like Tumbler couldn't defend himself. What the hell was going on here? Something was wrong.  
  
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Memphis asked, keeping his eyes firmly locked on Tumbler.  
  
Tumbler threw a look to Kip, and said, "Nothin'."  
  
Memphis almost burst out laughing at the pathetic attempt. There was no emotion in Tumbler's voice. He had just shaken his head and mumbled a simple word, one that Memphis already knew meant squat.  
  
"Don't lie to me," Memphis warned, and Tumbler looked him in the eye.  
  
The two stared at each other for what seemed like hours, but what were only moments in reality, and their gaze was intense, daring even. Memphis wanted to know what was going on, and Tumbler wasn't going to say.  
  
"Did you put him up to it?" Memphis inquired after a long minute, not surprised when he saw Tumbler snap his head to him in disgust and shock.  
  
Tumbler's gaze hardened, and he narrowed his eyes. "Hell, no."  
  
"Then what? Some dumbass dare?"  
  
"Yeah, right," Tumbler scoffed quietly, "you think we're that stupid?"  
  
"I dunno," Memphis retorted quickly, "I caught you breaking into a Lexus in the middle of the street."  
  
"You've got no idea what's goin' on," Tumbler practically growled back, inches from Memphis now. He had clearly made him a little angry... good, just what he wanted. Maybe now he would get some answers.  
  
"Then why don't you tell me?" Memphis pondered aloud, sarcasm evident.  
  
"Because it's none of your damn business!" Tumbler exclaimed, and before long, he and Memphis were tangled up in a rather heated argument that jumped back and forth. Their words increased in volume, and the intent moved from inquiry to insult quickly.  
  
Sway moved over to try and break Memphis away from it, and Otto was trying to calm Tumbler down. Apparently, it didn't take long for the young man's temper to boil. He was furious. Memphis wasn't much better. Junie stayed back in the office, rubbing her eyes, and the dog retreated through the small doorway behind her with a low pine.  
  
"He was going to kill him!"  
  
At the sound of Kip's almighty shout, everyone froze, their voices failing and stopping altogether. Memphis turned to his brother first, followed by a confused Sway. Otto glanced between Kip and Tumbler, who sighed loudly, and rubbed his hair again, glancing away, seemingly ashamed again.  
  
Kip was staring intently to his brother, and he was breathing hard, as if he had just been running.  
  
Memphis' eyes narrowed. "What?"  
  
Calmer, Kip repeated his words, "He was going to kill him."  
  
"Who?" Sway inquired, tilting her head ever so slightly, with a furrowed brow.  
  
Kip paused, and Tumbler's eyes darted to meet him. There was a subtle shake of the head, one that Kip apparently chose to ignore.  
  
"He... he said he was going to kill Tumbler," Kip managed after a moment. "That's why we... why I was stealing the Lexus."  
  
Memphis glanced to Tumbler, who groaned, rubbed his face, and slumped back into the chair. He paced over to his brother, and took a hold of his gently by the shoulders. "Who said he was going to kill Tumbler? Why?"  
  
"Um... I... I can't remember," Kip murmured, shaking his head in serious confusion.  
  
Sway glanced to the other young man, and raised her eyebrows. Tumbler saw her regarding him, and let out a sigh, saying, "Lyle Shepherd. His name was Lyle Shepherd."  
  
Memphis whirled to Otto, and quickly said, "Get hold of Atley, see if he's heard of this Lyle Shepherd guy."  
  
Otto gave a swift single nod, and disappeared into the office at once. There was the sound of his picking up the phone.  
  
"What did he want you to do?" was Memphis' next question, and he turned back to his brother, anger faded, concern ebbing and flowing freely. The situation was more complicated than he had thought.  
  
"He wanted me to get everyone together, and then he was gonna give me a list of cars he needs," Kip explained, and there was an edge of exhaustion to his voice. He scratched the back of his head slowly, and sighed. "I didn't want to get anybody else involved."  
  
"Then how come you went after the Lexus if you didn't even have a list?" Sway queried, not sure who to look to: Kip or Tumbler.  
  
Tumbler chose to reply, and Kip perched himself on the edge of a workbench carefully as the other young man said, "We thought that if we could show this guy we could manage to boost a car without anyone's help, then no one else would have to get involved."  
  
"I know how much this all mean to you, Memphis," Kip added, glancing around the garage, "and I didn't want you to have to risk losing it all again. I thought this was all behind us, you know?"  
  
"Then how did this Shepherd guy get the chance to offer you the deal?" Memphis asked, hands akimbo, eyes looking between Kip and Tumbler.  
  
Kip and Tumbler explained carefully, trying not to leave out a detail of what they knew, and Memphis and Sway listened carefully. It was a little confusing, and more than a little worrying. Someone had been able to drag up information about the crew's names and skills. Someone had told them, and they even had photos of every member of both young and old crews. Someone had been doing their homework.  
  
Memphis saw Otto emerge from the office, and heard him say, "Atley's gonna see what he can dig up on this Shepherd guy. He'll give us a call when he finds something."  
  
Memphis nodded, mind made up, and turned full on to his old friend and associate, saying, "Otto, we've got some calls to make." 


	6. Chapter 6

Two hours had passed, seemingly in an endless drag, and Otto's large garage had once again filled with familiar faces, young and old. Kip and Tumbler had tried to protest, but Memphis, Sway and Otto himself would hear nothing of it. Someone needed their help, and whether they liked it or not, they were going to get it one way or another.  
  
Memphis paced the room thoughtfully, leather jacket still covering his tall slim frame. His frosted blonde hair was neat and styled, his intelligent, gentle eyes ever watchful of the people around him. One hand rested near his mouth, as if in deep thought, the other on his hip firmly.  
  
Otto hovered in the doorway to his office, Junie gone home for the rest of the day. The large lazy mastiff lounged sleepily at his heels, drooling generously. Otto's grubby overalls had been rolled up at the sleeves, and the rag hung limply from one pocket. He watched Memphis carefully.  
  
Sway sat reversed in a spinning chair, leaning her chin on her crossed arms patiently. Her blonde dreadlocks rested around her face and on her lean feminine shoulders gracefully, light eyes looking around at the collection of friends and colleagues, new and old. She felt safe to be in such familiar company.  
  
Donny Astricky had taken it upon himself to lean his large frame against the temperamental Ford, and his kind dark eyes admired it knowingly. His large hands were in his pockets now as his eyes flitted about to take in the small crowd. It had been a while in coming, but to him it had been inevitable that they all reunite sooner or later.  
  
Sphinx, the large silent imposing figure that he was, held a switchblade firmly in one hand, proceeding to flick it out sporadically, pushing it down again with his free hand. His strong face looked as mean as ever, and the penetrating eyes never left the weapon.  
  
Kip slouched in a grubby armchair at the far side of the room, hair gelled back, eyes staring at a nonexistent point on the wall opposite amidst tools and keys. He had been lost in his own little world for some time now, and had not said much in almost fifteen minutes.  
  
Standing cocky as ever not too far from Sphinx, his dark sunglasses covering his eyes, was Mirror Man, nodding away to his own silent beat in his head. His bright, over-the-top clothing singled him out from everyone around him, and he seemed content to be so original and individual.  
  
Hovering in front of an active laptop, typing away frantically and effortlessly was Toby. His blonde hair was wispy and somewhat tousled, as if their phone call had woken him from a much-needed sleep after a long night of surfing the net. His innocent eyes never left the screen.  
  
Freb stood curiously, seemingly a little nervous, close to Otto, glancing at everyone frequently in turn. He sighed restlessly often, waiting for the plan of action to be announced, made public knowledge as it were. His all-black trademark clothing almost made him unnoticeable.  
  
And finally, there was Tumbler, seated near Kip on a cleared workbench, not sure what to do with himself, eager to get his all over and done with as soon as possible. He didn't even want to be here, was much more concerned with getting everyone else uninvolved. It struck him that it was his fault... all of this. It was because of him that Kip had agreed to this. His blonde hair, lighter at the tips, was dishevelled, but still spiky as always, gelled into place. His blue eyes were observant and concerned. His youthful face wore a frown.  
  
There was only one figure missing, and the reason for their ominous silence was because of this absence. They had contacted him, and were just waiting for his report on this threat. Lyle Shepherd... that was what Kip and Tumbler had called him.  
  
As if on some sort of cue, Atley Jackson appeared in the doorway, swinging the wooden door closed behind his lank frame, looking down distractedly at a scribbled collection of notes on a crumbed piece of paper.  
  
Memphis and everyone else along with him turned their heads collectively towards Atley, and waited, just like they had been for the last hour or so. It had in truth only taken a short amount of time for everyone else to arrive, but Memphis wanted to wait until Atley had arrived until he got down to business.  
  
"I think we got ourselves a problem," Atley said without provocation. His shaded eyes met those of Memphis, sway and Otto, and he sighed loudly. "One Lyle Shepherd," he continued, flashing the paper momentarily, "is a convicted convict, charged in the past decade for just about everything under the sun. And I mean everything."  
  
Memphis waited... more waiting. Why was everything determined to make him wait recently?  
  
Atley's eyes scanned his paper as he read from it loudly, "Theft, attempted murder, assaulting a police officer, grand larceny, disturbing the peace, kidnap, causing grievous bodily harm."  
  
Tumbler frowned considerably, and Kip glanced up at him on the workbench from his slouched position in the armchair. Kip furrowed his brow, and gave his friend a reassuring look.  
  
Atley had moved across the garage, through the small collection of car thieves, young and old, and handed Memphis the paper. Memphis let his gentle eyes look it over, and groaned, rubbing his head once over, ruffling his light hair, before passing it to Sway. She let out a whistle, and discarded the paper, letting Otto take a glance.  
  
"I think problem is an understatement," Otto commented quietly, laying the paper inside his office before Freb could take a look. The youngster frowned, tried to peek, before Otto was forced to actually close his office door to prevent him from doing so. There was something on that paper that they didn't want the young crew to see.  
  
Sphinx and Donny sat patiently on their respective sides of the room, eyeing the others curiously. They would get their look later, they knew. They knew how to be patient. Years of boosting cars had taught them such endurance.  
  
"So what exactly is it that we're doin' here?" Mirror Man asked bluntly after a moment of prolonged silence. He looked around through dark shades, and shrugged his lean shoulders, glancing hurriedly up at Sphinx. The large statue of a man simply blinked.  
  
"We're waiting," Memphis replied, his eyes never meeting Mirror Man's. The young dark-skinned man waited, and then slumped his shoulders back against the wall, taking his hint to shut up and sit tight.  
  
A few eyes darted momentarily in Tumbler's direction, and the young man tried his best not to notice, glancing to this and that as if he was distracted. Memphis knew he did realise the attention he was being paid though... he also knew Tumbler didn't like it.  
  
Memphis sighed lightly, and made his way for the exit at a calm pace, tapping Sway on the shoulder as he went. She glanced up immediately, her eyes looking around once before she followed silently, a little meekly... odd for her.  
  
Sway came to meet Memphis outside the door moments later, her blonde hair cascading in controlled tight locks over her feminine shoulder, her eyes curious. He had a purpose for calling her out here; she just didn't know what it was.  
  
"What is it?" she asked quietly, careful not to let herself be heard inside the closed garage. She stood close to the taller figure of Memphis, as if the proximity helped to calm her nerves.  
  
As Memphis touched her arm, she shuddered slightly. What had her so spooked? It wasn't as if Shepherd had threatened her life. But Memphis knew what it was almost as soon as he thought about it... it was the fact that someone she knew was being threatened so vehemently. Shepherd's record was impressively frightening.  
  
"I think we ought to consider getting Kip and Tumbler out of Long Beach... Tumbler especially," Memphis informed her after a moment of serious consideration. It hadn't taken him long to come to the conclusion. It was the only sensible thing to do.  
  
But Sway shook her head almost instantly. Apparently she did not agree. "No," was all she said.  
  
"Why not? If he stays, then we risk getting him killed." Memphis was being insistent but not harsh in his words. He chose them carefully, spoke them cautiously. The last thing he wanted or needed was to offend the woman he loved.  
  
"What happens if Shepherd finds out we shipped him outta town, huh? What do you think he'll do to the rest of us," Sway corrected firmly. "And then what's to stop him from tracking Tumbler down? Kip too if you send them both away." Another strong shake of the head. "They wouldn't be able to live with themselves if that happened... I know I wouldn't."  
  
Memphis let the words sink in, and then embraced Sway tightly and affectionately. Sometimes she was so much smarter than him. She had a good head on her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head, and then her lips gently. He nodded.  
  
"You're right," he whispered to her. Then he said louder, "All right... everyone stays... if they want to."  
  
* * *  
  
Tumbler had taken it upon himself to slump himself down in the far corner of the room, where it was quiet and distant from everyone else, and just think. He had been down here for a good ten minutes now, whilst everyone else talked. Memphis and Sway were still outside speaking secretly.  
  
He didn't care what they were talking about. He just wanted everyone to leave... he wanted to go back to his apartment, lie on his bed, and think about how much of an idiot he was. All of his life, he had never let anyone use him like that... never.  
  
His back was rested firmly against the wall behind him, his knees drawn up loosely in front of him and his elbows leaned on them. His hands dangled before his legs, and he spun one of his large rings round and round his finger as if it would help him think. Not that there was much to think about.  
  
This was his problem... well, technically -to Shepherd at least- his and Kip's. Nevertheless, he wanted Kip out of danger. He wanted to handle this himself.  
  
The door opened as his mind resolved itself, and his blue eyes immediately darted to meet the face of Memphis, followed by Sway, as he re- entered the garage. There was a look of certainty on his own face, as he motioned everyone to listen.  
  
"I've been thinking," Memphis said loudly, drawing attention to himself, "and I've decided that not everyone needs to be involved in this... not if we're careful. With a little bit of deception, we can make Shepherd believe that everyone he wants involved is taking part. One car here and there if you're not willing, then there won't be any problems. I don't want anyone to feel obliged to put themselves at risk."  
  
There was a moment of silence, and everyone looked at one another, fleetingly at Tumbler, who sighed and glanced at the floor, trying not to look bothered. He tried to give off an air of nonchalance, and wasn't sure whether or not he succeeded.  
  
"So," Memphis continued purposely, "who's in?" 


End file.
